The traveller
by FemmeBrulee
Summary: He's seen her too and it's too late now for her to look away. Memories begin to flood her traitorous mind. Memories she's convinced herself she doesn't have anymore. His breath ghosting against her neck. The moonlit glint of his signet ring as his hand rises up her thigh.


A/N: Hi everyone! I'm back with another oneshot that's inspired from the Ball scene from "Memoriae." Hope you all enjoy and if you do, please leave a comment! Until next time, xx.

* * *

She sighs, a bead of sweat trickling slowly down her neck. Of all days to have chosen to come out to Diagon Alley, she's picked the hottest one of the summer. She thinks longingly of the jug of iced tea she could have made at home instead.

Despite the queue already forming outside Florian's, the expressions of glorious relief on people's faces as they emerge from the parlour draws her toward it like she's entranced. She tries to guess what they're having while she waits - Rum Tres Leches, Tiramisu, Mint Chocolate, Honey Caramel…

It is packed inside Florian's. Every table is occupied. She glances around the quaint parlour, inwardly fuming at the people who have long finished their ice-creams, but are showing no signs of leaving.

_Inconsiderate, selfish, entitled lot of-_

She stops. Her heart lunges to her throat.

Her first thought is how much he seems to have changed, yet how remarkably little. His hair is the same, strikingly blond and falling carelessly over his eyes. But she also notices a hint of golden stubble around his jaw, a look that testifies to the five years that have gone by since she last saw him. There are subtle lines around his eyes and he leans luxuriously back in his chair as though daring someone to tell him otherwise. Far from the borrowed arrogance of his youth, he seems filled now with a certainty, a kind of knowledge of who he is and what he wants that she realizes had never really been there before.

He's seen her too and it's too late now for her to look away. Memories begin to flood her traitorous mind. Memories she's convinced herself she doesn't have anymore.

_His breath ghosting against her neck._

_The moonlit glint of his signet ring as his hand rises up her thigh._

_The feel of him between her - _

She tears her eyes away and stares up at the ceiling instead, taking in deep, measured breaths. That night had been a mistake, a stupid act done in the blurred haste of too many Firewhiskies.

_Then why does she have to fight so hard to forget it?_

From the corner of her eye, she can see him stand, his gaze unwavering on her. She prays he won't come near her, won't taunt her with the same whispered words that had driven her mad that night.

He doesn't, instead turning and heading toward the small back door of the shop that opens into the back alley. He pauses, his hand on the polished gold handle. He inclines his head slightly toward her and raises his eyes to meet hers.

It is just like that night, the way he disappeared behind a tall hedge, catching her eye just before he did. It is a look so subtle, yet so precise as to say it is meant for no one else.

She often thought of what would have happened that night if she'd just ignored him. She thought of what she would do if she could live that night again.

The answer was the same every time.

Heart pounding, she disentangles herself from the knot of people crowding up the parlour and walks silently to the back door. Her mind is screaming at her not to go, but she's dreamed of him one too many times to let the chance slip by.

He is waiting for her outside, leaning against the brick wall of the alley. She can see the outline of his body through his white shirt, and it makes her strangely aware of the lightness of her own summer dress.

She thinks that maybe she should say something, but the thought barely has time to breathe. He is crashing into her and she is throwing her arms around his neck. When his lips meet hers, it is like the world has vanished and the only thing that's real is how solid his body feels, how warm and alive against her own. She bunches her fingers through his hair, quickly remembering the soft, luscious feel of it and slides her hands down his face, his neck, his chest, wanting to remember even more. She parts her lips, moaning softly as his tongue enters her mouth and the sound makes him tighten his grip on her waist.

The kiss is hot, messy, insistent. It is to forget, as much as it is to remember.

It is only when he hooks his hand behind her knee and lifts her leg against his thigh that she realizes where they are.

Her eyes fly open.

"S-stop. Stop. Not here," she gasps, pulling away.

He groans, his eyes dark and hooded when he looks at her. He stares at her for a long moment before speaking.

"Traveller's Inn."

"What?"

"That's where I'm staying tonight," he says, nodding in the direction of a building at the end of the street. He hesitates, before adding, "I don't live in England anymore. Only dropped by for the weekend for work matters."

"Oh," she says, not sure if she sounded more disappointed than nonchalant.

"Maybe I'll see you tonight." She can't decide if it is hope she hears in his voice.

* * *

_The Hogwarts grounds had been unrecognizable that night. The trees around the castle were ornamented with tiny blue light bulbs and trays of mead and hors d'oeuvres floated in mid-air. The lawn had been sectioned off with beautifully trimmed green hedges. A goblin jazz band played on a large stage. Almost everyone was there, celebrating the first cohort to graduate after the Battle._

_He told her she was unrecognizable too, as he pressed her back against a tall hedge and brushed his lips against her neck. Her eyes fluttered shut as she allowed her body to respond to him, feeling the edges of her mind disappear. _

_She brought her hands up to his chest and began slipping the buttons of his shirt through their slots. The material felt expensive, and it thrilled her to watch it come undone under her fingers. In response, his hands found the zip at the back of her dress and pulled it slowly down, making her gasp as the cold metal kissed her skin._

"_Someone's going to see," she whispered in his ear, shivering as her dress fell from her body._

"_So what if they do?" he answered, dipping his head to her breast and taking her nipple into his mouth. Her words were lost on her lips as his tongue circled her nipple, rolling it about almost lazily until his lips, cold from the night air, closed on it and pulled. Her head fell back against the hedge and she bit her bottom lip to prevent herself from making a sound. _

_He rose up then, capturing her mouth with his and she moaned fully into him. She pushed his shirt off his shoulders and he shrugged it off, not caring that it fell to the ground. She broke the kiss, letting her eyes first roam the firm lines of his chest and abdomen before mapping them with her hands._

_He looked beautiful in the moonlight, she thought, catching an intensity in his eyes as she met them. He bent forward and kissed her again, torturously slow._

_It was like the ground had given way beneath her feet. She pressed into him, feeling his bare skin against hers, dizzy at the thought of how close they were. Her hands came up, fingers threading through his hair, before sliding down to cup his face._

_She exhaled in a soft rush when his lips left hers and began tracing a path along her jaw and neck. She tilted her neck to give him more access to her skin and at the same time felt his hand brush the inside of her thigh. Something inside her began to tighten as his hand climbed slowly higher._

"_Fuck," she breathed when he pressed a finger between her legs. He bit gently down on her shoulder as she did, his finger slipping beneath the lace of her underwear. She felt his breaths fall faster against her shoulder as he began to slide his finger back and forth. He moved so slowly, so deliberately, as if to hold every fragment of her attention. Her lips parted, her eyebrows drawing together at the feel of him, and she almost cried out when he slipped his finger inside her._

_He moaned this time, jerking his hips against her stomach as he pumped his finger slowly into her. She was gripping his shoulders, breathing fast against his cheek, unable to stop her own hips from bucking against his hand as he quickened his pace._

_He pulled her, and she saw the moon tilt upward and to the side. She landed on her back, the grass damp on her skin. She reached for his face and pulled him toward her, arching her back so she could feel all of him from this new angle._

"_Take them off,"she whispered against his lips. She closed her eyes as he deepened the kiss, hearing the clinking of his belt as he undid it and pulled off his trousers._

_His chest felt slick against hers as he positioned himself on top of her. She needed him now, needed to feel him where she wanted him the most. She parted her legs and pressed her knees against his waist. He slid a hand between them to feel her once more before pushing himself slowly into her._

_Her fingers raked his back in the effort it took her not to cry out. She could hear him breathing fast and heavy against her neck as he built a gradual rhythm against her. Her stomach tightened and her toes curled, her body craving for him more and more each time he pulled away._

"_You feel... fucking amazing..." she heard him say through ragged breaths, but she couldn't be sure because the stars of the night sky had begun exploding behind her eyelids. _

_His thrusts intensified and it took a brief press of his thumb against her for her to come undone all around him. She opened her mouth in a silent gasp as his movements peaked and then slowed all at once. He bent his head forward to nestle in the crook of her shoulder as he moaned his release._

_The world slowed in its relentless spinning for a few moments. They lay together, heartbeats intertwined, and somehow it was this moment that would be clearest in her memory in the years to come._

_No one had seen them, or if they had, neither of them had noticed nor cared._

_They were silent as they put their clothes back on. Judging by how quiet it had become on the grounds, she guessed everyone must have already left._

_It crashed into her then, how unlike the other each of them was, how separate their paths were. What could possibly come out of this, never mind what either of them might have wanted?_

"_Well, I- I suppose I'll see you around," she said without looking at him._

_He paused in buttoning his shirt, and she thought he might change her mind._

_But he doesn't._

"_I suppose," he said, too quietly._

_And when she walked away, it was with more willpower than she ever thought she had._

* * *

She finds herself now, outside his room in the Traveller's Inn, playing the last moments of that night over and over in her mind. She's tried to convince herself it was the right decision to walk away, that anything that could have been would have burned to ash before it even had a chance to ignite.

But there had been something in the way he held her, something in the way her body trembled beneath his, that tells her that maybe she isn't so sure.

She knocks, once, and softly.

He is dressed only in a pair of light grey pajama bottoms when he opens the door, and she wonders if it is on purpose. It feels strangely intimate, almost like she is coming home to him.

The room is sparse, with only a bed, wardrobe and side table. She notices a suitcase against the far wall.

"Wasn't sure you'd come—" he starts to say.

She doesn't hesitate this time, taking his face in her hands and pressing her lips to his.

He seems startled for a second, but then melts into her, wrapping his arms around her waist as he guides her into the room and closes the door behind him.

She deepens the kiss, curling her fingers around his ear, grazing them along the stubble on his jaw, taking his bottom lip between hers. Every part of him is a question she needs answered.

He palms the small of her back, one hand gently cradling the back of her head.

It is only a kiss, yet it is like she has forgotten her own name.

It overcomes her and she sighs softly against his lips, bringing her hands down to his chest and feeling his heart quicken as she does.

He strokes her cheek, and his lips follow the path of his fingers along her jaw, neck and down to her shoulders. He pushes the straps of her summer dress down and it falls to the floor with a sigh.

It is dizzyingly familiar when he dips his head to take her nipple in his mouth. Familiar when his lips and teeth suck gently and pull. Less familiar when he kisses lower, down her stomach, and lower still to a spot high on the inside of her thigh.

She gasps at the sensation, at how his breath feels against her skin, at the jolt that ripples through her body when his lips touch her there. She grabs the back of his head and tilts back against the wall, one leg rising to hook over his shoulder.

"Oh...fuck...Draco…" She starts to think it is the first time she has used his name, but her thoughts shudder to a standstill when he enters her with his tongue, grabbing her bum and tilting her hips closer toward his mouth. He moves his tongue in deep, circling strokes. She is incoherent, blood rushing behind her ears, the moments blending into moans and sharp gasps for air.

She thinks she is close now, and her fingers start to clench and tug on his hair. But then he stands up again, eyes dark and lips glistening.

He carries and pins her against the wall, spreading her legs and pressing himself between her thighs.

"You're so fucking irresistable, Granger." His voice is soft and rough against her ear as he pushes slowly into her.

"Me… I can't… either… oh god…" she breathes, her words dissipating into a soft moan when he is fully inside her.

He bows his head, his teeth grazing against her shoulder as he speeds up, and for a brief moment she can feel the grass on her back again, the chill of the starry night against her skin.

She thinks she might be saying actual words, but her mind has lost its bearings, and his body feels so hard and warm against hers, and he smells like soap and fresh laundry, and _yes... Draco... right there... soap... please... don't stop... _and now she thinks he might be grinning a little against her neck.

Her hand is on the back of his head, and her lips are against his ear, and she doesn't think she has ever felt this close to a person.

Maybe he's thinking the same, because when she starts to cry out, he raises his head to look at her, in a manner so tender it makes her eyes wet, and then he kisses her so firmly that it is all it takes for her to burst apart.

A few thrusts and then he is shattering too, his eyes squeezing shut and red rising in his cheeks.

There is nothing else in this one long, perfect moment. Only an exhilaration of two heartbeats falling slowly down together.

It's a moment she'll remember in the years to come, even when she tries to forget. She'll stow it carefully away, with the rest of her memories of him, all paper thin and faded at the edges. It'll come back to her in a dream, or in an absent gaze through a window.

She doesn't know when she will see him again. Maybe in five years, or ten.

And she'll do it all over again.


End file.
